


Apology Accepted

by Muykke



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Collars, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski - at the background, F/M, Fingering, Foot Fetish, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Myotonic Orgasm, Oral Sex, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 15:04:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16098110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muykke/pseuds/Muykke
Summary: The events take place 6 years after the canon. Peter is looking for some entertainment, but instead, he comes across Lydia Martin, who holds an old grudge. However, no one leaves disappointed.





	Apology Accepted

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I think Peter should have apologized a little better in the Series. So here I've given Lydia a chance to have her moment of justice. How she uses it is up to her ;)
> 
> I didn't tag the Sterek pairing because they appear briefly.
> 
> I also thank my dedicated Beta @Unne for proofreading and support.

They arrived at the hotel late in the evening. Four hours at the back seat of a car with the Stilinski kid talking non-stop. Peter deserves a change of scene. His nephew and his boyfriend decided to make a weekend trip to LA, so Peter tagged along. Not to spend time with them of course. For "business".  
  
To come to LA and spend their first night at the hotel, - that's screwed up, but it's what Derek and Stiles are planning to do. _Freaks._  
  
"Where are you going?" Stiles asks curiously when Peter heads out, all clean and nicely dressed.  
  
"No offense but I'd rather not see you two sucking each other's faces for the rest of the night. I'm going to this new place, "The Alpha Club"."  
  
"Woah, a club?"  
  
Peters smirks  
  
"You could say so."  
  
"Maybe we'd go with you? Shake our bodies a little. We won't be on your way."  
  
"Not that kind of club, Stiles." Derek says flatly.  
  
"But I suppose some sort of body shaking can be arranged there." Peter winks playfully at Stiles, enjoying the way Derek tenses at the periphery.  
  
"What do you mean? What kind of club this is?"  
  
"A  _sex_  club, Stiles." Derek says raising his voice a bit.  
  
"Woah, a SEX club? What will you be doing there?"  
  
Peter barely refrains from asking Derek "Is your thickness contagious?"  
  
Meanwhile, the kid recollects himself:  
  
"Okay, stupid question. But the whole club? Just for sex? I'm imagining a regular club with a lot of people having an orgy right on the dance floor, although I guess this is not what you meant."  
  
"Hmm.. An orgy on a dance floor could be interesting, but I'm sure it's out of menu there. What I know for sure is that they're 'werewolf friendly'".  
  
The kid bounces on his chair.  
  
"Is this a thing? How is it possible?"  
  
"The owner is probably a werewolf from a local pack."  
  
"A local pack?" Stiles looks even more overwhelmed.  
  
"You didn’t think we are the only werewolves around, did you?"  
  
"How many are there?"  
  
Peter exchanges glance with Derek again.  _You wouldn't believe if I told you_ _._  
  
"Nevermind, keep your werewolf secrets to yourself if you wish. I'll find out eventually." Stiles says.  
  
"I'm sure you will, Red Hood."  
  
Stiles makes a face, he hates that nickname.  
  
"All right, I'm taking off now. Behave yourself, kids."  
  
"Oh, we will 'Uncle Peter'". Stiles remarks sarcastically and then adds in a low voice, "Probably we'll have some werewolf friendly activities of our own." He winks at Derek who chooses to glare at Peter instead.  
  
"Knock yourself out, kids".  
  
***  
  
The club is impossible to find for a simple human but easy for the likes of Peter. Definitely werewolf-friendly. Once Peter is in, he's met by a huge guard who all of a sudden says:  
  
"Welcome, Mister Hale. There's someone who wants to see you. Follow me please."  
  
_This is interesting._    
  
Peter doesn't have many acquaintances in LA. And certainly not the ones that would want to meet him at a place like this but you never know. The guard leads him along the dark corridor. The light is dim and Peter can't hear anything, the walls must be sound proof. They stop at the heavy black door. The guard opens it revealing a spacious workroom and leaves instantly.  
  
The room is furnished with taste, the furniture is made of wood and leather. It's expensive, Peter can tell. But other than that it's a plain work office, nothing extraordinary. Except for the person sitting behind the table at the back. Lydia Martin.  
  
The door closes behind him and he stands there, unsure what to do.  
  
"Hello, Peter." She says flatly.  
  
"Lydia. Never thought I'd meet you of all people in a place like this."  
  
Six years haven't changed her much: Lydia's face looks the same but the features got a little sharper. Her eyes narrow.  
  
"In a place like what? It's a respectable establishment that provides quality service. I should know. I own the place."  
  
Peter is sincerely surprised.  
  
"Oh, Lydia, I gravely underestimated you."  
  
"I suppose you want to ask, why you were brought  _here_."  
  
Peter cocks his head.  
  
"I knew you're in town. And I knew you'd come here eventually, where else would you go? So I've asked for you to be escorted to me straight away." She pauses.  
  
Peter doesn't say anything so she has to continue.  
  
"I believe you owe me an apology. Suppose there's no need to remind you what for."  
  
Corners of Peter's mouth go up just a little. As he doesn't say anything again, Lydia goes on.  
  
"You are free to go and do what you came here for." Peter smirks. "Or you can stay and earn your absolution. She opens the top drawer of her table and slowly reveals a leather collar with shiny rivets. She puts it in front of Peter and looks at him as if asking "Would you be up for it?" Her face is impenetrable, but Peter can hear her heart picks up the pace resembling a little bird flapping its' wings, faster and faster.  
  
He picks the collar up and pretends to examine it.  
  
"Are you sure this is what you want?" He asks narrowing his eyes. His voice is pure silk.  
  
Lydia stands up from her seat and walks around the table. She takes the collar out of his hand and looks him in the eye.  
  
"Are  _you_?"  
  
Peter eyes her head to toe. Lydia looks like a petite figurine – with porcelain white skin and smooth lines, no sharp angle anywhere like she was carved in marble by a Renaissance sculptor and then brought to life by God's breath. Long hair tamed and straightened. Perfect make-up and manicure. She's wearing a milk-white blouse - formal enough for work but sheer. Her navy blue pencil skirt fits her like a glove and beige shoes make her legs look longer. Even in her stilettoes, she's a head shorter than Peter is.  
  
_All right, little bird._  
  
Peter lifts his chin signing his consent. Lydia's fingers feel cold as she fastens the collar around his neck. Peter suddenly realizes that she has never played a game like this before.  
  
_This is about to get really entertaining._  
  
Never mind that it's her first time, Lydia is a brave girl. Her voice is tranquil when she says:  
  
"Until this collar if off, you do as I say. You do not speak unless I speak to you. You may ask questions. Do you have anything to ask now?"  
  
"What should I call  _you_?" Peter asks in a velvet voice.  
  
She hesitates, so he offers:  
  
"Is 'Mistress' okay?"  
  
Her heartbeat quickens.  
  
"Yes." She hisses.  
  
_Darling, why be a sex club owner if you don't use it to your advantage? It's good that_ I'm  _here to show you some of the perks._  
  
Peter senses her blood pulsing inside. He can smell her arousal and the heat pooling between her thighs. He eyes her perhaps a little too hungrily, and she gasps. She's willing to proceed but the nerves get hold of her. Does she regret it? Suspects he's going to do something bad to her? That's understandable. But even Peter can play fair once he's accepted the rules of the game.  
  
He downs on his knees and looks up at her showing that he's in her mercy and she may proceed. He feels her calming down and asks.  
  
"May I touch you, Mistress?"  
  
Few moments pass before she utters: "Yes."  
  
Peter touches her ankle gently with the tips of his fingers and slowly drags them upwards testing the waters. She takes a small step back just as his hand reaches the hem of her skirt. Peter looks up.  
  
_Decide._  
  
He waits until their gazes are fixed on each other, then slowly reaches for her ankle again. She leans on her table thus giving him a permission to go further. Peter lifts her foot and slowly takes her shoe off. He touches the cleft between her toes with the tip of his tongue. He makes sure Lydia is watching, when he slowly drags his tongue up to her knee and stops there. He lifts his glance again, tongue still pressed firmly to her kneecap.  
  
_Here's what I'm offering you. Take it. No one ever refused it. No one regretted it either._  
  
That does the trick. Lydia's no fool. She stands straight abruptly and toes her other shoe off. Once barefoot Lydia seems to finally gain the confidence she's been lacking. She tugs at Peter's collar making him stand up and leads him to the leather couch in the middle of the room.  
  
She sits down and leans back. Peter lowers himself on his knees in front of her.  
  
"What would you like me to do, Mistress?"  
  
He asks already anticipating the answer. Instead of answering Lydia pulls up her pencil skirt and leaves it just above her hips. Peter slowly draws his hands up the smooth skin of her legs. As he reaches her thighs he spreads them a little. Lydia lets him do it without resistance, that's a sign that she's ready. Her lace panties are claret red and don't match her simple nude-colored bra. Perhaps she hasn't planned it after all. Perhaps she wants  _him_  to believe that. One thing Peter has figured out: she isn't willing to take anything off but her shoes. All the same for him. Peter lifts Lydia's legs up and pulls her closer in one rough move. She gasps but doesn't protest. He puts her legs on his shoulders. Then he looks at her once again. Lydia is still, waiting for him to proceed. He moves the delicate lacy fabric aside and buries his face between her legs.  
  
She opens to him like a flower to the light. "The Alphabet" is for the lazy ones, the skilled ones play upon partner's reaction. And they always react, provided they have any experience in the matter and know what they want. Lydia certainly does. She starts off closed up and cautious. Maybe it's because she lies there exposed and vulnerable, pretending to be a "big girl" for the Big Bad Wolf. It doesn't matter that Peter is wearing a collar. When she has her legs on his shoulders while he's playing her with his tongue, guess who is in charge. Peter knows what he does. They all like it when his stubble rasps at their inner thigh, no matter a man or a woman. Lydia gasps, bucking her hips forward where Peter already meets her with his tongue. They go on for a while like a perfectly coordinated orchestra. Who would have thought that they'd be like this right at the very first time? Peter learns how she likes it rather quick, she's very responsive and plays along willingly.  
  
_Good little bird._  
  
He teases her just the right amount of time listening to her breath. When it starts to wobble, it's time for a change.  
  
Peter sits up and lifts his hand, fingers spread.  
  
"Mistress, may I?"  
  
She hesitates but doesn't refuse.  
  
He puts his middle and ring fingers into his mouth then takes them out showing to her. The nod is barely visible but it is enough. He slowly sinks his two fingers into the wet heat and spreads them like scissors. He gently rubs his thumb against the nod of nerves at the front and center. She tenses only for a moment and then relaxes entrusting herself into his mercy again. He moves his hand gently but with the right amount of tension, preparing her for what he's about to do, monitoring her reactions. She is caressing her breasts under the bra still not daring to reveal anything other than necessary. All the same, he still can do his job perfectly. Peter inhales the scent-filled air.  
  
_Almost there._  
  
Her eyes half-lidded, mouth a little open. She entwines her fingers into her hair and pulls, probably to stop herself from moaning too loudly.  
  
_Almost there._    
  
The scent thickens. It fills every inch of Peter's body. His dick gets painfully hard in anticipation. Lydia twists and pushes her hips on his hand.  
  
_There._  
  
He crooks his fingers inside and presses up, giving just the right pressure with his thumb. Lydia's legs close up like scissors, she arches her back and groans. Peter shuts his eyes and squeezes her ankle then presses his cheek to it. He counts as the moisty walls pulse around his fingers.  _One. Two. Three. Four. Five_ _._  Then it's over.  
  
Lydia shudders and breathes heavily, her hands tremble. Peter gently returns her panties to their place lets go of her leg and stays on his knees, waiting.  
  
It only takes her a few moments to collect herself. She stands up and pulls her skirt down. Then buttons up her blouse and fixes her hair. Surprisingly her make up is still perfect, not a smear anywhere. If she goes out of this room right now no human would be able to tell what she's just been doing.  
  
She sits down again and looks at Peter. Her features soften.  
  
"That was a very sincere apology." She says seriously. "But I still don't accept."  
  
Peter lifts his eyebrow.  
  
"Get up." She orders. Peter does. She moves closer and her face levels with his crotch. His cock is visibly hard inside his jeans.  _She wouldn't_ _._  Lydia unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly. Then she sits back and puts her arms openly on the back of the couch. She crosses her legs.  
  
"Get on your knees."  
  
Peter almost gives out a relieved sigh and obeys immediately.  
  
"Touch yourself." She says. "With your right hand."  
  
Peter's right hand is still wet. He had other plans for it but he likes Lydia's idea too. He frees his cock out of his jeans and starts stroking himself merging her wetness with his.  
  
She watches mesmerized, aloof at first, but her heartbeat elevates as his does. Peter takes his time. He knows what her next words would be.  
  
"Don't come until I tell you to."  
  
_That's my girl._  
  
"Yes, Mistress." He says and her pupils dilate.  
  
Peter observes. She tries to stay calm and stern, but he knows that the heat flows down her belly again. Her thighs tighten. The smell of arousal starts driving him closer to the edge, so he holds his breath stealthily. His hand goes up and down the length of his dick. The image of where this hand has just been sends a wave of pleasure down his spine almost triggering his release. He squirms and bites his lip. Lydia's cheeks redden at the sight. Peter groans and she tightens her thighs again. It's barely visible, but Peter notices. He looks her straight in the eye as if daring her. She responds by stretching her leg out. He puts his chin against the pad of her sole.  
  
_This chin has just dried out._  
  
He sticks out his tongue and subtly touches the tips of her toes with it. She almost squeaks but contains herself this time.  
  
_I knew you love it._  
  
Peter still holds her gaze with his. He places his tongue flat to her heel and drags it slowly up the rim of her little foot. Lydia bites her lower lip and holds a moan.  
  
"Not yet." She whispers.  
  
Peter slows his strokes postponing his orgasm. He licks Lydia's foot again holding it firmly and brushes his stubbly cheek against the sole. He takes his time now.  
  
"Not yet." She repeats, her voice betrays her. Her breath is shallow now, legs tremble just a little when she tries to put her thighs together.  
  
Peter is on the edge himself barely hanging there. He rubs her foot with his thumb. She gives out a barely audible moan.  
  
"Now." Her voice is husky.  
  
_After you._  
  
Peter drags his tongue across her foot one more time then takes her big toe in his mouth and sucks on it. That does it. Lydia shuts her eyes and shudders. Her toes curl, fingers scratch the leather on the seat.  
  
Peter groans loudly with her big toe still in his mouth. He comes in waves as the scent of Lydia's arousal fills all the space around him.  
  
When she gets up Peter wonders if there is a wet spot on the couch. There must be. Does she have a spare skirt? In a place swarming with werewolves she'd better stay in her room till the closing hours. Judging by the way the blood pulses in her veins, she probably will stay here for a while after he's gone, to trigger her memory a couple more times.  
  
Lydia looks him in the eye. The girl is good, even Peter can't tell what she's thinking right now. She unfastens his collar, her fingers are hot.  
  
"Apology accepted. You may go now." Her voice is tranquil again.  
  
Peter plays along, although he really means it this time.  
  
"Thank you, Mistress."  
  
For a second her face shows her 6 years younger self, and Peter feels a twinge of emotion.  
  
It's almost dawn when Peter returns to the hotel. He lies on the bed fully clothed. The scent of this night's encounter still floats around him. He covers his face with his right palm and his dick twitches inside his jeans. He would shower and be downstairs for breakfast fresh and clean. However, he can't help but imagine the face Derek could make if he caught the scent Lydia has left on him. Too bad that Red Hood wouldn't be able to notice it. He'd probably faint. But what happened in that room should stay there, just between the two of them. Peter covers his face with his right palm and reaches down his pants.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. All the comments are welcome. If you have anything to say, please leave a comment.


End file.
